(no subject)

[hopeitsworthit]

"See ya."

Dean tips the bartender a wink and a smirk, grabs two bottles of beer and heads off to join his cranky-ass brother.

"I talked to the bartender."

Sam looks up, leaning back and giving Dean a Look.

"Did you get anything? Besides her number?"

There's a split second where Dean almost looks kinda pissed.

"Dude, I’m a professional. I’m offended that you would think that."

Then he grins, smug as ever, and holds up a napkin with--you guessed it--a phone number. "All right, yeah. You got me there, Sammy."

Comments

[gavemea_45]

"Not yet."

Sam's flipping through John Winchester's journal, until he pulls out a few folded papers that have been stuck in the back.

"It's not in Dad's journal or any of the usual books -- I'm still looking through the stuff we got from Andrew, but I haven't found anything there either."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Shit."

Dean's lip twists in irritation.

"Wait, there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?"

[gavemea_45]

"Yeah, there was-- hang on--"

Sam sorts through the papers and finds a newspaper clipping, which he glances at before handing to Dean.

"Ben Swardstrom. Found mutilated in his town house last month, same deal."

[hopeitsworthit]

"Huh."

Dean frowns down at the clipping, tongue worrying at his teeth.

"You find any connection between the two of 'em, yet?"

[gavemea_45]

"Not yet."

Sam frowns down at the papers.


"I mean-- Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress, you know? They never met, didn't know anyone in common-- they were pretty much from different worlds."

A beat.

"Not like that, though. Not Milliways-like."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean rubs his forehead.

"You know, I'd kinda prefer that at this point. At least we'd know whatinhell is happening."

He lets out a sharp breath.

"So. To recap. At the moment our only not-shitty intel is the bartender's phone number. Which I plan to make good use of tonight."

He smirks, tongue caught between his teeth.

It's really a pity Sam isn't paying attention to him, at the moment. He's missing a hell of a show.

"Sam?"

[gavemea_45]

By now he's not paying any attention to Dean at all. Sam shoves everything back into his bag and walks away, across the room, toward a short-haired blonde sitting at a distant table.

"Meg?"

Startled, she turns around, and then beams at him.

"Sam! Oh my god, is that you? What are you doing here?"

Meg leaps to her feet and hugs him.

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What the . . .

Well, now.

Dean's eyebrows are up, way up, as he watches his brother and the blonde chick.

This--this is pretty unexpected. Huh.

He's not moving to join them yet, but he will.

Soon.

Unless he gets distracted by a real nice pair of tits.

[gavemea_45]

"Me? Oh, I'm in town visiting friends," Sam lies easily. He's frowning a little in puzzlement as Meg looks around.

"Where are they?"

Sam shakes his head.

"They're not here right now-- hey, listen, what about you? Last I saw you, I thought you were on your way to California, not Chicago."

[hopeitsworthit]

Okay, so apparently there aren't any hot chicks in this bar.

Except the one Sam's talking to.

Hell, Dean'd do her.

Though he's still wondering why Sam legged it over here like his ass was on fire.

Maybe now that Dean's in earshot, he can find out.

[gavemea_45]

"Oh, I did," Meg tells him with blithe cheer. "I came, I saw, I conquered -- but the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while."

Sam nods.

"Are you from around here?"

[hopeitsworthit]

It's not that Dean really wants in on this lame-ass touchy feely conversation, but--

He's always been shit at bein' a wallflower.

So he clears his throat, scrubbing one hand through his hair.

Someone's bound to notice him, right?

[gavemea_45]

Evidently not. All of Meg's attention is on Sam as she says,

"No, I'm from Massachusetts -- Andover. This is so weird! What are the odds we'd just run into each other like this?"

"Yeah, I know," Sam tells her. "I really thought I'd never see you again."

Meg smiles, very warmly. "Well, I’m glad you were wrong."

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Dean clears his throat again.

Loudly.

God help him if these two kids start cooing at each other, or something.

He wouldn't put anything past Sam, at this point.

Freak.

[gavemea_45]

It's Meg who turns on him, though, with a look of extreme irritation.

"You know, you could cover your mouth."

Sam breaks in. "Yeah, um. I'm sorry, I should have said something-- Meg, this, uh."

An awkward pause. "This is my brother. Dean."

Meg's eyes widen.

"You're Dean?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean's smirk widens.

"Yeah. You heard of me?"

'Course she did.

[gavemea_45]

"Oh yeah, I've heard of you."

Meg looks pissed.

"Really great, the way you treat your brother like luggage."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean looks really freaking confused.

"Uh. What?"

[gavemea_45]

"Why don't you stop dragging him around? Let him do what he wants--"

Sam breaks in, quickly.

"Meg, don't. It's all right."

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean puffs out his cheeks, then lets out a low whistle.

"Oookay. Awkward. Uh."

He gives Sam a Look.

"I'm gonna go get a drink now, okay?"

There will be Words later.

But now, Beer.

And Chicks.

Dean'll be busy for hours.

[gavemea_45]

As Dean walks away, Meg lays her hand on Sam's arm. "I'm sorry. It's just-- the way you said he treats you-- I'd kill him, myself."

"It's all right," Sam says, again. "It's not-- he means well, okay?"

"Okay." Meg sighs, then smiles at him. "Hey, we should hook up while you're in town. I'll show you a hell of a time, I promise."

Sam smiles back. "That sounds great. What's your number?"

A few minutes later, after trading information, Sam waves and heads back toward the bar.

And Dean.